Decided to finally throw all my filthy little posts into one place. Iāll keep this updated as new stuff goes up, so check back if youāre ever in the mood to be ruined.
PLEASE read the warnings at the top of each piece before diving in. I donāt hold back in my writing, and some of it might be genuinely upsetting depending on your limits. Also, I mostly write smut so.. you've been warned.
I write for:
ā” Ticci Toby ā”
ā” Tim Wright/Masky ā”
ā” Brian Thomas/Hoodie ā”
ā” Jeff the Killer ā”
ā” BEN Drowned ā”
ā” Eyeless Jack ā”
I write based on my personal headcanons, which might stray from the usual fandom interpretations. Just something to keep in mind while reading.
My requests are open atm but please be patient with me - I write based on inspo, and not everything will get a fill. Asks are always welcome!
I do NOT consent to my work being fed into AI, copied, translated, or plagiarized in any way. Please respect me as a creator. Thank you.
If you want to read my fics on AO3, here's my profile!
Thanks for reading my stuff, ily <3
Series
Sweet Tooth (Ticci Toby x F!Reader) || Part 2 || Part 3 || pls check #sweet tooth for discussions
Deer Season (Tim Wright/Masky x F!Reader) || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 (Finale) || pls check #deer season for discussions
The Cabin in the Woods (Tim Wright/Masky x F!Reader x Brian Thomas/Hoodie) || Part 2 with Toby (Finale) || pls check #cabin fic for discussions
Safety Off (Brian Thomas/Hoodie x F!Reader) || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 (Finale) || pls check #safety off for discussions
One-shots
Blood Money (Jeff the Killer x F!Reader)
Bus Stop (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)
Tainted Meat (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)
The Hunt (Tim Wright/Masky x Proxy!Reader x Brian Thomas/Hoodie)
Green Light (BEN Drowned x F!Reader)
The Pit (Jeff the Killer x F!Reader)
Scared Little Bunny (Ticci Toby x F!Reader)
Halfway Gone (Jeff the Killer x F!Reader x BEN Drowned)
General character headcanons (click HERE for more)
Liu Woods/Homicidal Liu Headcanons
Eyeless Jack Headcanons
BEN Drowned Headcanons
Tim Wright/Masky Headcanons
Brian Thomas/Hoodie Headcanons
Ticci Toby Headcanons
Jeff the Killer Headcanons
Creeps' Zodiacs
Visual Headcanons: The Creeps & Their Bodies
How I Imagine the Creepsā Living Situation
Where are the creeps from?
The Creeps' Childhoods
How the Creeps Like to Dress
What the Creepsā Hair Looks Like
The Creeps' Sense of Humor
Creepsā Deepest Insecurities
Tim and Brian Sharing a Girl in Bed: A Rant
Would Tim and Brian Share a Girlfriend? A Rant
Tim and Brian x Feminine Reader: A Rant
What is Jeff's relationship with Liu like?
Brian's truck
Other headcanons/drabbles (click HERE for more)
Creeps Reacting to Their S/O Being Insecure
How Noisy the Creeps Are in Bed
Ben's mommy kink
How the Creeps Feel About Marriage
Primal play with the creeps
Creeps Seeing Their S/O Without Makeup for the First Time
Would the Creeps Make Love to Their S/O?
Creeps Reacting to Their S/O Getting Emotional While Patching Them Up
Toby with a muzzle
Creeps saying "I love you" to their S/O
Creeps' Reaction to their S/O Getting Pregnant
Tim and Brian with a rope bunny
Brian with a Broken Hand x F!Reader
Do Tim and Brian have a daddy kink?
Proxies in a Toxic Relationship
Would the Creeps Cheat on Their S/O?
Creeps Sleeping Next to Their S/O
Creeps Showering With Their S/O
Creeps With a Bratty S/O
What Creeps Do in Their Free Time with Their S/O
Creeps Going Down on a Girl
Creeps After an Argument With Their S/O
Creeps With a Girly S/O
Creeps' Favorite Body Parts on a Girl
How the "Girlfriend Air" Would Hit the Creeps
Toby with an old crush before he became a proxy
Tim and Brian with an ex-girlfriend before they became proxies
How the Creeps Like a Girl to Dress
Creeps React to S/O Sending a Spicy Pic
Creeps React to Another Creep Landing Their Ideal S/O
How the Creeps Flirt and Pin After Their Crush
How the Creeps Handle Post-Sex Affection
Creeps React to Their S/O Getting Hit On by Other Creeps
Toby and EJ x Autistic S/O
When Someone Flirts With Their S/O
Tim and Brian with a soft, devoted reader who canāt hide how much she loves them || Part 2 with Toby, Jeff, Ben, EJ
Ticci Toby x Sassy, Flustered, Understanding Proxy Reader
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
ā Live Streamingā Interactive Chatā Private Showsā HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch ā¢ No registration required ā¢ HD streaming
ALL OF THEM!! Literally all of them would be extremely appreciative of a backrub š®āšØ
The Creeps Getting a Massage from Their S/O
Toby
Youāre already half-asleep with Toby tucked against you, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the TV and his uneven breathing near your ear.
Heās curled into you the way he always gets when heās tired enough to stop pretending he doesnāt need it. One arm is thrown over your waist, his face pressed into the side of your neck, his body warm and twitchy under the blanket. Every so often, his shoulder jerks against your chest, or his fingers flex where theyāre bunched in your shirt.
At first, you just hold him.
Then your hand drifts absently up his back, smoothing over his hoodie, and you pause.
His shoulders are hard.
Not just tense. Knotted and tight enough that when your palm presses into one of them, it barely gives beneath your touch.
āToby,ā you murmur.
He hums sleepily against your neck. āMm?ā
āYouāre so tense.ā
āMānot,ā he mumbles, even though his shoulder twitches under your hand again.
You rub your thumb over the place where his neck meets his shoulder, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
You pull back enough to look at him. āYeah. You are.ā
His eyes blink open, unfocused and tired. āI d-didnāt evenā¦ didnāt even nuh-notice.ā
That makes your chest ache a little.
You shift under him and gently pat his side. āRoll onto your stomach.ā
He looks at you like his brain needs a second to catch up. āW-what?ā
āCome on. Let me help.ā
His face flushes faintly, but he listens. Awkwardly, with a few jerky movements and a soft grunt, Toby rolls over onto his stomach, arms folding under the pillow. His hoodie rides up slightly at his waist, his cheek squished against the fabric, curls falling into his eyes.
You climb carefully over him, settling on the backs of his thighs with just enough weight to keep yourself balanced. Your hands return to his shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the hard muscle there.
The first slow push makes him groan, a rough, surprised sound that slips out of him before he can stop it.
āOh,ā he breathes.
You still for a second. āGood?ā
His fingers curl into the pillow. āY-yeah. Yeah, baby, thatāsāā His voice catches when you press deeper, working your thumbs in small circles. āF-fuck, that feels s-so good.ā
You smile softly and keep going.
His body reacts in pieces. A shiver down his spine. A tic in his shoulder. His hips shifting slightly under you as his muscles start to loosen. He makes little sounds into the pillow, embarrassed at first, trying to swallow them down, but the more you work into the knots, the less he seems able to care.
āI didnāt know you were this sore,ā you say quietly.
āI d-didnāt know either,ā he mumbles, voice muffled. āJ-just thought I wasā¦ tired.ā
He groans again when your palms drag down from his shoulders to the middle of his back, pressing warmth into him through his shirt.
The sound is so honest it makes your stomach flutter.
Toby turns his face just enough that one eye peeks back at you, heavy-lidded and soft. āDonāt stop,ā he whispers.
āIām not stopping.ā
You work slower after that, taking your time with him. Your thumbs press along the ridges beside his spine, then back up toward his neck, careful when his body jerks, patient when he needs a second. The more he relaxes, the heavier he gets beneath you, melting into the mattress like heās been waiting all day for this.
After a while, his hand reaches back clumsily until his fingers brush your knee.
You cover his hand with yours for a second, squeezing gently.
He lets out a long, shaky breath.
āFeels nice being taken care of, huh?ā you murmur.
His face turns red against the pillow.
But after a quiet moment, he nods.
āY-yeah,ā he whispers. āFeels r-real nice.ā
Tim
Tim comes home looking like the day has wrung him out and left nothing useful behind.
The door shuts heavy behind him. His boots drag across the floor. His jacket comes off one shoulder, then the other, landing over the back of a chair without much care. He smells like cold air, smoke, and exhaustion, his hair a mess, his jaw rough with stubble, his eyes dull and distant in a way that makes your heart sink before he even says a word.
āHey,ā you say softly, stepping toward him.
He leans down when you reach for him, but the kiss he gives you is barely there. His mouth brushes yours, warm and tired, but he doesnāt really kiss back. Not like he usually does. His hand comes to your waist for half a second, squeezes once, then falls away.
āLong day?ā you ask.
He gives a low grunt that sounds almost like a laugh. āSomethinā like that.ā
Then he walks straight to the bedroom.
You follow a moment later and find him already stretched out on the bed, face turned into the pillow, one arm hanging over the side. He hasnāt even taken his jeans off. His shoulders look massive and stiff beneath his shirt, the fabric pulling tight across his back every time he breathes.
You crawl onto the bed beside him and rest your hand on his spine.
He doesnāt move.
āTim.ā
āMhm.ā
āRoll over.ā
He turns his head just enough to squint at you. āFor what?ā
āJust do it.ā
He watches you for a second, too tired to argue properly. Then, with a deep sigh, he shifts onto his stomach fully, arms folding under the pillow.
You swing one leg over him and sit carefully across the backs of his thighs.
That gets a faint sound out of him. āGettinā bossy now, huh?ā
āYou need it.ā
He doesnāt answer, which means youāre right.
You push his shirt up over his back, exposing warm skin and tense muscle. Tim is broad under your hands, solid in that rough, masculine way that always makes him feel larger than the room when heās close to you. But right now, all that strength is wound tight. His shoulders are like stone beneath your palms.
You start firm because you know he can take it.
The second your thumbs dig into the first knot, he groans low into the pillow.
āJesus Christ.ā
You pause. āToo much?ā
āNo, sweetheart,ā he mutters, voice rough and thick. āKeep goinā.ā
The pet name slips out of him in that tired drawl, all gravel and warmth, and it makes something soft open in your chest.
You lean your weight into your hands and work him slowly, pressing into the hard lines of his shoulders, then down beside his spine. He groans again, deeper this time, his fingers tightening in the sheets.
āYour hands feel so damn good,ā he says, barely lifting his face from the pillow.
You smile, rubbing the heel of your palm into the muscle near his shoulder blade. āYeah?ā
āMhm.ā His voice drops lower. āDonāt know what youāre doinā, but keep doinā it.ā
You keep going.
The room settles around you. The low light. The warmth of him under your thighs. The slow give of muscle beneath your palms as you work out knot after knot. Tim is quiet except for the occasional groan, the soft curse under his breath, the way he exhales your name like itās the only thing he has energy left to say.
After a while, one of his hands reaches blindly toward the nightstand.
You glance over and see him fumbling for his cigarette pack.
He turns his head enough for one eye to open. āLight one for me?ā
You smile. āYouāre being spoiled.ā
A tired smirk pulls at his mouth. āAināt that what youāre here for?ā
You roll your eyes, but you grab a cigarette and lighter anyway. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you light it, then settles it between his fingers.
āThank you, sweetheart,ā he murmurs.
You go back to rubbing his shoulders, slower now, your hands smoothing down his back. He takes a drag, exhales away from you, and sinks even heavier into the mattress.
A few minutes pass before he speaks again.
āGotta ask,ā he says, voice lazy and mildly amused, ādo I get a happy endinā?ā
Your hands still, and you can't help but giggle at the ridiculous question.
āOh my God, Tim!ā
His shoulders shake with a low, tired chuckle.
āWhat?ā he mutters, smirking into the pillow. āJust checkin'ā.ā
You press your thumb deliberately into a knot near his neck.
He groans hard, cigarette hand dropping safely away from the bed. āShitā alright, alright.ā
You lean down, kissing the warm skin between his shoulders. āBehave.ā
His smirk softens, eyes closing again.
āYes, maāam.ā
Brian
Brian is sitting on the couch when you find him, quiet in that way that means the tiredness has gone deeper than his bones.
The TV is on, but he isnāt watching it. His elbows rest on his knees, hands loosely clasped, head slightly bowed. The glow of the screen moves over his face in pale flashes, catching the hard line of his jaw, the shadows under his eyes, the strain sitting heavy across his shoulders.
He looks composed, he always does. But you know him well enough to see the tension underneath it.
You come around behind the couch without saying anything at first. Your hands settle gently on his shoulders, thumbs resting near the base of his neck.
Brianās head tilts slightly, just enough to acknowledge you.
āYouāre tense,ā you murmur.
He exhales softly through his nose. āAm I?ā
āVery.ā
His mouth twitches faintly, but he doesnāt answer.
You begin slowly, rubbing over the tops of his shoulders through his shirt. At first, he stays exactly as he is, elbows on his knees, posture controlled. His muscles are hard beneath your palms, knotted from holding himself steady for too long.
You press your thumbs in deeper.
His eyes close.
There it is.
You work carefully, moving in small, firm circles, following the tension from his neck to his shoulders and back again. Brianās breathing changes first. It slows and deepens. His head lowers a little more. His hands unclasp, fingers spreading against his thighs.
You lean over the back of the couch to get a better angle, your chest lightly brushing his shoulder as your thumbs find a stubborn knot near the base of his neck.
He groans under his breath.
Itās soft, restrained, almost like he didnāt mean for you to hear it.
You smile and keep your pressure steady.
āRight there?ā you ask.
He nods once. āYeah.ā
You work that spot patiently, feeling the muscle resist you at first, then finally begin to give. Brianās shoulders drop inch by inch under your hands. The careful stillness leaves him slowly, replaced by something heavier, warmer, safer.
āThat feels heavenly,ā he murmurs.
The words are quiet, but they make your cheeks warm.
You bend down and kiss the top of his head, your lips brushing his hair.
He reaches up then, taking one of your hands before you can return it fully to his shoulder. His fingers wrap around yours, calloused and warm, and he brings your hand to his mouth.
The kiss he presses to your knuckles is gentle.
You donāt say anything, just let him hold you there for a second.
Then he lowers your hand back to his shoulder, still holding it lightly, like he doesnāt want to let go too quickly.
You resume the massage with your free hand first, then both when he finally releases you. You rub down over his shoulder blades, then back up to his neck, your movements unhurried and sure.
Brian leans back a little, just enough for the back of his head to rest briefly against your stomach.
You kiss his hair again.
He lets his eyes stay closed.
And you keep going until the tension in him loosens enough that his breathing nearly matches yours.
Ben
Ben has been complaining for twenty minutes.
At first, it was background noise. A dramatic groan from his desk. A muttered curse at his screen. A long, theatrical sigh as he shifted in his chair for the tenth time. But now heās sitting hunched in front of his computer, one hand on the mouse, the other reaching behind him to rub uselessly at his own back.
āMy spine is actually betraying me,ā he says.
You look over from the bed. āMaybe because you sit like a shrimp.ā
He glances at you over his shoulder, offended. āI am suffering.ā
āYouāre folded in half.ā
āIām gaming.ā
āYouāre shaped like a question mark.ā
He opens his mouth to argue, then winces when he turns too far.
You sit up. āC'mon, Ben. Bed. Now.ā
His brows lift. āDamn, buy me dinner first.ā
āBen.ā
āOkay, okay.ā
He gets up with all the drama of a man heading to execution, then flops face-down onto the bed. His hoodie rides up slightly, hair spilling across the pillow, one cheek squished against the sheets.
You climb on beside him and settle close, pushing the back of his hoodie up enough to get your hands on him through his thin shirt.
He grins into the pillow. āBe gentle with me. Iām delicate.ā
āYouāre so annoying.ā
Then your thumbs press into his shoulders.
His joking dies instantly.
For a second, thereās only silence.
Then Ben lets out a long, low groan that sounds so relieved you almost laugh.
āOh my God,ā he mumbles.
You smile. āStill delicate?ā
āShut up. Donāt stop.ā
You start working his shoulders properly, pressing into the tight muscle with slow, steady pressure. Heās tense from sitting too long, from hunching over his keyboard, from acting like his body can run forever on weed, energy drinks, and bad posture.
At first, he keeps trying to make comments.
Something about your āmagic hands.ā Something about how he should have asked for this sooner. Something about how heās definitely dying and this is his final wish.
But the deeper you work into his back, the quieter he gets.
His hands curl into the pillow. His legs go loose. Every time you find another knot, he groans like itās being pulled out of him against his will.
āFuck,ā he breathes. āThat feels so good.ā
You rub along either side of his spine, then back up to his shoulders. āYou really were sore.ā
āI told you I was suffering.ā
āYou always say youāre suffering.ā
āThis time it was real.ā
You laugh softly, but your hands stay gentle. The room glows blue from his abandoned computer screen, the game still running, his character probably standing somewhere unsafe and unattended. Ben doesnāt seem to care. His whole attention has narrowed down to your palms on his back and the slow relief spreading through him.
After a while, he turns his head enough to look at you with one half-lidded eye.
āYouāre getting a reward for this,ā he mumbles.
āOh yeah?ā
āMhm.ā His grin is lazy, crooked, and deeply pleased with itself. āEating your ass tonight.ā
You stop for half a second.
āBen!ā
āWhat?ā His eyes widen with fake innocence, though his face is still smushed into the pillow. āIām grateful.ā
You shake your head, laughing despite yourself, and press your thumbs into his shoulders again.
Jeff
Jeff is sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to you, toying with his lighter.
Click.
Flame.
Click.
Dark.
He does it over and over, shoulders hunched slightly, elbows resting on his knees. Youāre lying behind him, half under the blanket, watching the orange flicker of fire catch against his fingers, then disappear again. He hasnāt said much since he came in. Just kicked off his shoes, dropped onto the mattress, and started messing with the lighter like it might burn the tension out of him if he stared long enough.
His back is tight beneath his shirt. You can see it in the line of his shoulders, the stiffness in his neck, the way he keeps rolling one shoulder like something there wonāt loosen.
You quietly sit up.
The mattress shifts under your weight as you scoot closer, moving until youāre right behind him. Jeff turns his head slightly, sensing you, but he doesnāt look all the way back.
Your hands settle on his shoulders.
He stiffens.
āWhatāre you doin'?ā
You start rubbing before you answer, thumbs pressing into the muscle near his neck.
āYouāre tense.ā
āI donāt need a massage.ā
His voice is rough and grumpy.
You just hum softly and keep going.
For a minute, he acts like heās tolerating it. Like this is something youāre doing to amuse yourself and heās simply allowing it because he has nothing better to do. The lighter stays in his hand, though he stops flicking it. His head remains angled forward, hair falling around his face.
Then your thumbs find the first real knot.
His fingers tighten around the lighter.
You press slow circles into the spot, firm and patient.
Jeffās shoulders rise with an inhale.
Then drop as he exhales.
Little by little, the resistance leaves him. His back softens beneath your hands. His head dips forward. The lighter hangs loose between his fingers now, forgotten. When your palms drag down along his shoulder blades and then back up again, he lets out a quiet breath that almost sounds like a groan.
You move closer, your knees bracketing him from behind, your chest brushing his back as you lean in to work deeper into his shoulders. Heās warm through his shirt. Solid. Still tense, but giving way under your touch.
āRight there?ā you murmur.
Heās quiet for a second.
Then, barely audible, āYeah.ā
So you stay there.
You knead the knot until it loosens under your thumbs, then smooth your palms over the area afterward, gentler now. Jeffās head lowers more, exposing the back of his neck. For all his sharpness, all his teeth and blood and cruel little smiles, he looks almost vulnerable like this. Held still by something softer than force.
After several minutes, your hands slow.
You think maybe heās had enough.
But the second your palms lift, his hand reaches back and catches your wrist.
āDid I ask you to stop?ā
You look at the back of his head, then chuckle under your breath.
āNo.ā
āThen donāt.ā
Thereās no real bite in it.
You settle behind him again, your hands returning to his shoulders. He releases your wrist as soon as you touch him, like that was all he needed.
You lean forward and press a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Jeff goes still.
For one quiet second, he doesnāt move at all.
Then his chin dips, and he lets out a low breath.
You kiss him there again, softer, before going back to working the tension from his back.
He doesnāt need to thank you, the way he stays, relaxed and silent under your hands, says enough.
Jack
You find Jack in the infirmary long after he should have stopped working.
The room is dim except for the cold overhead light above the counter. Supplies are lined up with his usual precision, instruments cleaned and set aside, bloodied gauze already sealed away for disposal. He stands at the sink, sleeves pushed up, washing his hands even though they already look clean.
His posture gives him away.
Jack is usually still, but this is different. His shoulders sit too high. His neck is tense. Every movement is controlled, but slower than usual, worn down by hours of work and focus.
You lean against the doorway, watching him.
āYouāre overdoing it.ā
His head tilts slightly, acknowledging you without turning around. āI am almost finished.ā
āYou said that an hour ago.ā
He dries his hands carefully. āThere was more to do.ā
āThereās always more to do.ā
That makes him pause.
You cross the room and nod toward the cot against the wall. āSit down.ā
He turns his head toward you, dark sockets unreadable.
You lift your brows. āC'mon, doctorās orders.ā
For a second, he only stares.
Then your mouth twitches into a small giggle, and something in him softens. Itās subtle, barely there, but you catch it. The faintest shift of his mouth. The smallest suggestion of a smile.
āYou are not a doctor,ā he says.
āIām acting physician of making-you-sit-down.ā
Another pause.
Then Jack obeys.
He moves to the cot and sits, tall and quiet, hands resting loosely on his thighs. You step behind him, close enough that your knees brush the edge of the cot, and place your hands on his shoulders.
His body goes very still under your touch.
āYouāre tense,ā you say softly.
āI know.ā
The honesty surprises you a little.
You begin gently, rubbing over the tops of his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tight muscle near his neck. Jack doesnāt make a sound at first. He sits perfectly upright, head slightly bowed, accepting the care in silence like heās still trying to understand what to do with it.
You take your time.
His skin is cool beneath the fabric of his scrubs, but the tension in him is unmistakable, deep and stubborn. You work slowly, pressing in with steady circles, then smoothing your palms outward along his shoulders.
After a while, his shoulders lower.
You smile and lean closer. āDoes that feel good?ā
Jack is quiet for a moment.
Then he says, low and simple, āYes.ā
Your hands keep moving, warmer now, more confident. You rub down toward his shoulder blades, then back up, fingers slipping carefully along the base of his neck. His head dips forward, and the tension begins to leave him in slow, reluctant layers.
Then you hear it - a low vibration in his chest.
You pause for half a second, your smile softening.
Jack doesnāt comment on it, and neither do you.
You simply keep massaging his shoulders as the purr deepens, quiet at first, then steadier. It fills the small space between you, low and soothing, like his body is answering for him in a language more honest than words.
You lean down and press a kiss to the side of his head.
āI love taking care of you,ā you whisper.
The purring stutters for a second.
Then Jack tilts his head, slowly, until the side of his face rests against your hand.
The gesture is careful.
You still your palm against him, letting him lean into it.
His eyes close, and one of his hands rises to touch your wrist.
āThank you,ā he says quietly.
You bend closer, brushing your lips to his temple.
āAlways.ā
And when your hands return to his shoulders, Jack leans into every movement, silent except for that low, steady purr, letting you ease the ache from him piece by piece.
girl after that last ask I went and watched ariana's music vid and holy shit I could write an essay on the comparisons between it and DS. So weird how the guy looks eerily similar to Tim in the opening! Even her looking like a deer in headlights dressed in yellow when he hits her with his car, her walking away from the fire he caused, the dinner being called 'bunny hop' (lil reference to our bunny girl SO)...
I see it more like Tim attempting to put distance between him and DS by abandoning her in the 'safe place' but he can't really get away from her and when he finally returns to be with her, she's the one trapping him because now she is free, like actually free from him. Now he's the one that is trapped with all the scribbled in notebooks and all the boxes labelled trauma, monsters, "things I should have said" and "things I shouldn't have said", all stuff he's been keeping locked away and after attempting to put her in the same place as all the rest of this shit he doesnt wanna deal with, its now him thats locked there with it all. After a brief moment of being so happy to reach her again, all he can do now is look up at her and watch as she slowly fades from his view.
"I've held your projections when you've felt so insecure, tell me why is it this way, why you so hate to see women endure, is it really my fault you all gave me your hearts of your own accord... I don't really think so"
Omg yes yes yes, you totally get it! ā¤ļø I love that interpretation!!
Speaking of the diner being called āBunny Hopā I find it so eerie that itās specifically a diner with that name. Diners have such huge significance in Safety Off - Brian promises to take her to a diner in part 1 and actually does, and then he takes her to a diner again in part 3. Likeā¦ what a coincidence!!
But yeah, there are freakishly many DS references throughout that whole video, Iām actually flabbergasted lol. I think Iāve watched it like five times now, and I keep finding new little details every time. Itās so strange! Iāve never been a huge Ariana fan, but after this?? Bitch count me in, Iām a stan for life š
im not sure if u have seen the music video for arianas new song, "hate that i made you love me" but it is very "deer season" aftermath to me. the way she is being buried by him in the beginning, but then as the video carries on, she is haunting him & making him miserable n he sees her everywhere. āŖāŖā¤ļøā¬
That man burying her, only for her to haunt him constantly and bring all this bad luck into his life, is so creepy because when you look at what happens to Tim in ST, which takes place after DS, you can kind of read it as him finally getting his karma. Like DS reader is, in a way, getting back at him through Toby.
Also, Ariana looks so cute. Sheās so DS reader-coded to me in that video, especially with the way she haunts him while still being all sweet and playful as she ruins his life. When she was serving him coffee in that diner, all I could think about was that exact dynamic happening to Tim, except in a bar instead, with DS reader as the bartender.
And lastly, I couldnāt help but notice all the little details in the video that remind me so much of DS, like the man smoking while heās burying her (which is very Tim-coded), her being underground and reading through notebooks (which was such a big thing in part 10 when Toby finds her notebook and reads through it), him burning down the house (like Tim burned down the bar in part 8), and the fact that the man literally kind of looks like Tim from certain angles. Likeā¦ wtf Ariana girl are you secretly following me?? Lmao
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I absolutely love your works and all the head cannons you have about our creeps.<3
Kinks and sexual behavior are never hidden when you write and I adore it!
My question is..
what do the guys think of spit play (i.e. being spat on, spitting in mouths, etc.) and how willing would they be to do it?
Iāve always had this question and Iām absolutely dying to know how you think the creeps would incorporate it into intimacy. Xoxo!!
Tysm!! š«¶ If you read my fics, youāll probably run into spit play pretty early on lol š¤ Thereās just something about a guy spitting during sex that instantly does it for me
The Creeps and Spit Play
Toby has a filthy little habit of spitting directly on your pussy right before he buries his face between your thighs. He loves seeing you already soaked and then making it messier - watching his spit mix with your arousal, dripping down your folds, getting everything glossy and sloppy. It makes him rock hard every single time. Heās also obsessed with you spitting on his dick while youāre sucking him off, the wet sounds and strings of saliva driving him crazy. Mutual spitting in each otherās mouths during messy makeouts? Absolutely. Toby isnāt squeamish in the slightest - the messier, wetter, and nastier, the better. Heāll happily drown in it.
Tim is a big fan of spitting on you while he fucks you, and heās not picky about where. Your face, tits, pussy, ass, anywhere he can mark you. Thereās something primal about it for him, like heās claiming territory and reminding you exactly whoās in charge. When heās warming you up, heāll spit on his fingers before pushing them inside you, or just spit directly onto your clit and immediately shove his cock in after. The extra warmth and wetness makes everything feel filthier and smoother. He loves the visual of his spit shining on your skin while he fucks you.
Brian isnāt usually one to spit casually, it feels pretty degrading to him, so he reserves it for when things get really rough and intense. In the heat of the moment, though, it can slip out naturally. What he does love is the intimate control of face-to-face fucking. In missionary or while youāre riding him, heāll grab your jaw, squeeze your cheeks to force your mouth open, and spit directly onto your tongue. āSwallow,ā heāll growl, eyes locked on yours. He also loves when you spit on his dick or your hand before stroking or riding him - that little act of eagerness from you gets him going hard.
Ben is a sucker for sloppy head. If youāre drooling, spitting, and making a complete mess all over his dick, heās in Heaven - the wetter and louder, the better. Heās also an extremely deep, hungry kisser (especially when heās high), so expect long, spit-heavy makeout sessions where saliva drips down chins and gets everywhere. If youāre feeling dominant, heās more than happy to let you take control: spit on his face, spit in his mouth, call him your good boy while you do it. Heāll take it with a lazy, turned-on grin.
Jeff is hands-down the biggest, most enthusiastic spitter of the group. He thrives on degrading, dominant sex and uses spit as one of his favorite ways to assert control. Heāll spit on your face while youāre on your knees choking on his cock, spit on your pussy right before slamming in, slap your cheek lightly and then spit on the spot he just hit, or force your mouth wide open and spit down your throat. Itās all about power and ownership for him. That said, he loves when you beg for it. Heāll tease you mercilessly, like āYou want me to spit in your mouth that bad, huh?ā but heās more than happy to give you exactly what youāre craving.
Jack isnāt really into spitting - he finds it unnecessary and too degrading for his taste. Heās much more about tasting you. Heāll lick and suck every inch of your body: neck, tits, stomach, thighs, ass, and especially your pussy. The way he can taste your arousal, feel your pulse against his tongue, and savor every little twitch is addictive to him. He does however love deep, slow, messy kissing that gets plenty wet and slippery. Expect lots of saliva exchange during those long, hungry kisses - just in a much more sensual, less humiliating way than the others.
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GIRL you once said in your headcanons that Tim would love to be a girl dad, now imagine him listening to Sienna by The Marias after DS reader's deathšš
Bro why tf would you say this?? My heart can't take this shit š
Knowing the backstory to this song and how the singer is basically talking about the unborn child she couldāve had with her exā¦ itās literally Tim. Oh my fucking GOD, itās Tim. Itās him imagining the life he couldāve had with DS reader, the family they couldāve had, a little girl who looks just like her mommy šš
The lyric āwould look just like you, with a temper like youā is gut-wrenching. Itās not just him imagining some vague future or some faceless child. He can see her. He can picture this little girl with her motherās face, her attitude, her stubbornness, all the little traits he probably loved and pretended annoyed him. Itās him mourning someone who never even got to exist, but somehow still feels real because she wouldāve been made out of both of them.
